


Honorbound

by Desiderii



Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Demons, Flirting, Innuendo, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Paladins, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desiderii/pseuds/Desiderii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is Overlord of the Underworld and has been minding his own business for years when in stomps Steve fucking Rogers in full paladin regalia, blazing through every defense against tin lunchboxes he'd ever set to ensure he remained undisturbed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honorbound

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so fucking sorry for this. My brain seized on this [prompt](http://ironfries.tumblr.com/post/64620723013/hallo-i-want-a-fantasy-au-with-steve) and horked up a one shot last night. For all the Steve/Tony I've read, though, you'd think I'd have written for the fandom before. Technically this is a flashfic for me, and now that I know I can do something like this in an evening... yeah. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, unpolished, and unrepentant. Enjoy

The susurration of scale on scale was a comforting backdrop for the clank and buzz of more dangerous endeavors. Sweat dripped from Tony’s nose, missing the spread ribcage of his current project but barely. The fragile bone arched up around his hands as he worked, leaving curved streaks of blood and bile on his arms, and the miasma of darkness that coiled through the not-yet-living construct tickled his cheek. Scratching didn’t cross his mind, his thoughts sunk too far into his creation and the delicacy of nudging power just-so or placing a strip of flesh with unholy precision. A disruption at this time… 

“Sir,” came the precise tones of the serpent, throwing Tony’s concentration on the floor, out the window, and into the lake of fire flickering just out of view. His hand slipped, the power he was wielding burned hotter, and the scent of burning flesh filled his tower. 

Swearing, Tony swept the failed creation from his worktable for the scavenger minions already nosing from their hidey-holes, and turned his frustrations on his interrupter. The serpent, his coils looped invisibly through the bones of the earth, was Tony’s greatest creation and he damn well knew better than to break his master’s concentration with anything less than a crisis. “This had better be good, Jarvis.”

“We have company,” Jarvis said, unperturbed, one of his many heads slithering into view through the wall. 

“Rival Army of Darkness? A succubus claiming we’re Vegas Married wanting alimony? Father back from the dead? What’ve we got, and do I need to break out the demon hordes?” 

“Ah…” At Jarvis’s hesitation, Tony turned to lean against his worktable, eyebrows raised. The serpent’s head shifted in form to something slightly more draconic, his tongue lashing through his jaws. “A champion from the upper world has breached our defenses.”

“Ah,” Tony echoed his construct, suddenly not particularly inclined to mock Jarvis’s manifestation of teeth and spines. The news had his own defensive instincts going haywire. “Well, fuck.” 

Stepping to the window, Tony leaned out and squinted into the mists. “Can we get a bead on the incoming tin can? Has he - he? - gotten past the sirens? The soul mists?”

“Male. Also yes and yes, sir.” 

“Nobody gets past the sirens,” Tony said, piqued. Running a hand over the curve of his horns, his irritation swiftly turned to concern. “Are they dead? Is their leader?” 

“She’s fine, sir. And- it seems that she has suffered only minimal casualties.” 

Tony leaned on the stone, resisting the urge to shift his form into something bigger, scarier, and more monstrous. Champions, especially paladins, loved that sort of shit; it gave them a nice, big target. Tony was pretty sure that their manual read somewhere: ‘Aim for the ugliest motherfucker in the room.’

“Minimal casualties,” he said, mind already working. “You’re saying this guy didn’t kill his way through. And Pepper let him go?”

There was a long pause before Jarvis gave him a curt, “Sir.” 

Tony laughed, a short, mirthless sound. “Well, that was a cranky, unwilling yes if I’ve ever heard one. I’m not going to harm her.” He pushed himself away from the window and began to pace, his boots ringing on the stone. “Just makes me think, as all. What sort of paladin could get past the sirens with minimal damage and no retaliation? What does Pepper know that I don’t? And why the Hell hasn’t she sent a messenger?”

A second dragon’s head peeled away from the ceiling, dropping down to watch Tony pace. Jarvis’s voice issued from this new mouthpiece while the other head sank back into the stones of the floor. “It seems the paladin exited the soul mists openly weeping, but otherwise unharmed by the spirits within.” 

“Just my fucking luck someone would send an actual goddamned hero,” Tony said. He halted by the crispy remains of his deep-fried failure and kicked at its ribs. They shattered, sending pieces skittering across the floor for the demons creeping about at the edges of the workshop. “Give me something. What are his sigils? Holy symbols? Heraldry? The colors of his banner? What are we working with?”

“The Order of the Hammer,” said Jarvis, a loop of his vast coils dipping from the ceiling to deposit a large something on Tony’s worktable. It thudded heavily against the surface with a faint ring of metal. “His shield is emblazoned. He carries neither banner nor favor, and he does not seem to carry a symbol for any deity I have encountered.” 

“The Order of the _Hammer_? And Pepper let him through?” Tony drew to a halt, baffled beyond his ability to process. He turned to the table to examine the shield in question, not bothering to ask how Jarvis had acquired it. He passed a hand over the ugly red fist and hammer on its argent field. He was offended just looking at the thing. “No, seriously. Why, _why_ , would she do that? The Order’s full of assholes. Is she staging a coup? Did he promise her the underworld if he offed me?”

“If she and this paladin have entered a pact, I have no knowledge of it.” 

“Not the same a saying ‘no’, certainly, but if you don’t know, that makes it unlikely,” Tony said, once more beginning to pace. 

The Order was the goddamned bane of Tony’s existence. It was all brute dogma wrapped around the charisma of its founder, Justinian, whose naming himself ‘Justice’ was just a bullshit excuse to go around punching people in the face and making Tony’s life miserable. Anyone working for the Order would have to be stupid or dead to not realize that it was a vanity circle-jerk of a cult designed to flatter its founder’s ego. 

His thoughts snagged: Stupid or _dead_. He tripped over nothing and his wings flared out behind to catch him, their materialization a reflex he couldn’t control - not when he was agitated. The resultant swirls of dark power drifted heavily to the floor as he staggered to regain his balance, the draft from his wings sending scraps of paper and parchment fluttering from every surface. Tony swore. “Is the paladin already dead? Is Pepper placing her psychopomp duties first?”

Jarvis paused, his eyes momentarily filling with an inky blackness, a reflection of Tony’s own power. When they cleared, he said, “He is breathing.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tony swore again. _So much for that idea_. “This makes no sense. We’ve held to a strict isolationist policy. I haven’t even been to the surface in years. Dad was the scourge. I’m the reconstructionist for fuck’s sake. I didn’t _do_ anything to make anyone want to come after me.” He curled his hands into fists around his horns and hung on, though his initial defensive reaction was ebbing away to be replaced by a hefty dollop of curiosity. He really hadn’t done anything. Neither had his minions, at least since he’d taken over. He drummed his fingernails against his horns’ ridges and rocked backwards on his heels, settling his wings in a heavy flutter of leather. “How is he getting past my guardians?”

“He seems to be, as you have previously stated, a ‘goddamned hero’,” Jarvis said. “Perhaps a more pertinent question is how do you wish to deal with the interloper? Technically, champion status notwithstanding, he is violating at least four - up to possibly seven - of the sovereignty laws that apply to both mortal overworld and underworld territories.” 

“I don’t need page and paragraph.” Tony waved a hand in dismissal, returning to the window. He drummed his fingers on the sill. “I need to hope that carrying the Order’s shield doesn’t mean he’s too stupid for logic.”

“Is that likely, sir?”

“I’m not holding my breath, if that’s what your asking.” Tony squinted into the gloomy distance, half-sure that he could see the reflection of the plate-mail that any proper paladin would sport. “Why would you ever work for the Order? Who does that?”

Ignoring Tony’s question as rhetorical, Jarvis asked instead, “Orders, sir?” 

“Tell me where he is now,” Tony said, climbing onto the windowsill and crouching so he wouldn’t clonk his horns on the granite of the arch.

“Step-stones, sir. Halfway across the river.”

“That far?” Tony asked, mostly of himself. “I’m impressed.” 

“Take care, sir. Shall I continue to monitor all subregions as usual?”

Wrapping one hand around the keystone, Tony straightened and spread his wings, hanging out the window. “Don’t see why not. Keep your eyeballs peeled while I go see if this sword-swinging Order mook has anything between his ears or if he’s getting past on the innocence of imbecility. Pepper never could kick a puppy, bless her siren soul. Kiss kiss, Jarvis, I wouldn’t wait up if I were you.” 

Tony leapt from the window, snapping his wings out to their full extension. He caught a thermal rising from the magma that roiled below and soared away from island, tower, and workshop in the direction of his newest problem to solve. 

Tongue flicking in and out, Jarvis watched him disappear into the mists of the underworld before melting back into tower’s stones. The two resident demons found courage in his departure and clambered up onto the worktable to bicker over the forgotten shield.

**

The river fed the lake of fire that formed the moat of Tony’s stronghold, and it lit the omnipresent haze of the underworld with a an orange glow. Tony followed its false dawn as he soared across the lake, avoiding the spatters of molten rock that boiled from beneath the dark crust with the grace of long practice. Representing one of the final challenges preventing unexpected visitors, the river was deep within Tony’s territory. 

There, just heaving himself from one outcropping of runed stone to the next, was the tiny figure of the paladin. His silvered armor reflected the glow of the river, turning him into a beacon that guided Tony on his descent. 

Runed or not, however, the stones were slick with a thin layer of glass dust that bit through flesh and made handholds treacherous. Only uninvited guests or the most desperate of Tony’s people would use the step-stones and expect to make it across the river.

Case in point: As Tony flew lower, gliding in for a reconnaissance pass, the paladin slipped.

Tony’s mental calculus concluded that it would probably be more efficient to let the paladin melt only after his fingers closed around his gauntleted wrist. The weight of his prize threw him off and Tony flailed to an awkward landing on the flat top of the step-stone. He dragged the paladin halfway across its surface before he could loosen his grip and skid to a stop. 

At the touch of Tony’s boots, the runes flared pale blue, their light nearly drowned by the blaze of the river. He spun into a low, defensive stance, one leg kicked out for balance, and steadied himself with fingers splayed on stone. 

Crouching, wings mantled in a futile attempt to convince himself he would look properly imposing to the solid brick of meat and metal he’d just rescued, Tony waited for the paladin to stir. To a human hand the gauntlet would have been hot enough to burn, boding ill for the occupant, but soon enough the paladin shoved himself to his knees. He swung his helm around to point the view slit in Tony’s direction and froze. 

“Creature.” The word was barely breathed before the paladin clanked his way to his feet, hand going to his sword. It slid, well-oiled, from its sheath without a sound and he leveled it at Tony’s chest. 

Tony didn’t get a ‘thank you for saving me’ or even a ‘what the Hell?’. He began to chalk the paladin’s success up to stupidity. Certainly there was a champion’s rule or something that laid out how _not_ to draw on your rescuer.

“I know you,” came the paladin’s voice instead, ringing from the helm in a commanding tenor. 

Straightening from his crouch, Tony folded his wings and lifted his chin. “Do you now?”

Loops of Jarvis’s omnipresent form coiled tight around the step-stone near the surface of the river, a subtle indication of support that Tony appreciated.

The helm dipped in the direction of the river and - much to Tony’s infinite surprise - the paladin said, “You may have yoked the Midgard Serpent to your will, and used it to steal my shield, but its power will not save you.”

Tony blinked at him, flabbergasted by the other man’s ability to see anything out of that stupid helm of his as well as by how utterly _wrong_ he was. “Jarvis isn’t Jormungand,” he said, incredulous. Then he paused. “Though I think he’d be flattered by the misconception? If you’ve a beef with the Midgard Serpent, though, are _you_ ever lost. May I suggest taking the portal on the right next time? Asgard is pretty much in the opposite direction.” With the runes still glowing faintly beneath his feet, he had power and defenses at his fingertips if the paladin decided to charge.

There was a clear note of frustration in the paladin’s voice. “I meant to be here. I meant to find you. You are the foul demon, Tony Stark, scion of the late Howard Stark, scourge of the mortal realms.”

“I rather object to ‘foul’,” Tony said, eyes on the blade point that the paladin held terrifyingly steady for someone who’d nearly roasted in his own armor. “But the rest is true enough, I suppose.”

“Then you shall answer for your crimes,” the paladin said. “Prepare for the justice you richly deserve.” 

The paladin brought his sword back and swung without further preamble. Tony sidestepped the initial slice, forced only to twitch his wing out of the way to prevent it from being nicked. 

For a human wielding a broadsword and decked out in full plate, the paladin was damned fast. If Tony let the not-quite-fight go on for much longer, he’d need to put some effort into actually dealing with the guy. Where had the Order found him and why the fuck send someone so obviously skilled on a suicide mission to the underworld? 

Tony ducked a little too slowly trying to dodge the paladin’s backswing and the metal clipped one of his horns. Hard. It took a solid flap of his wings to force himself upright and a backward leap out of reach to keep his head on his shoulders. 

“Holy fuck,” he said, startled into speech. The guy wasn’t just fast, he was a _threat_. He was the genuine article if Tony had ever seen one. Seeing the paladin’s performance up close, Tony wouldn’t be surprised if he would have handled falling into the river like he’d handled every other obstacle thus far. It was far past time to talk. “Hold the fucking phone. If I’m supposed to answer for these alleged crimes, shouldn’t, you know, at least get to hear what they are?”

“Do you remember what you did in Paris?” the paladin demanded, advancing. Tony backed toward the edge of the step-stone as the paladin continued, “Or any of the assassinations? Or the arsons? Hundreds burned in their beds, Stark, and each and every death can be laid at your feet.” 

“If I’d ever been to Paris with you, I sure as Hell’d remember it,” Tony said, because he only had a filter when he wasn’t trying to dodge the swings of some sort of super-paladin. He tipped off the step-stone and into the air, putting a long, hot drop between himself and the damned sword and its wielder. “Seriously, though. What the fuck are you even talking about. I’ve been here for years, literally, just ask anyone. Minions and all, we’ve been here, in the underworld, doing demon things and definitely not burning sleeping people or performing assassinations or going to Paris.”

The paladin wasn’t buying it. He stood, sword at the ready, and watched Tony circle. “Lies. I’d expect no less from the Prince of Darkness.” 

“Aren’t you precious,” Tony said, “but hereditary rule encourages inbreeding. I’m the underworld’s Overlord through one hundred percent non-inbred nepotism and don’t you forget it.” 

Again, the paladin’s frustration came through loud and clear. “Will you- will you just land and face me? Sword versus…” 

“Magic? Claws?” Tony supplied. “I can use my teeth if you prefer, but I don’t think that’ll get us very far unless you’re into that.”

“I’m not into-” the paladin began. His teeth clacked shut, audible through his helmet. 

“No, seriously, though, I don’t remember any of that stuff because I’ve never done any of that stuff. You got the wrong guy.” If the paladin threw that sword like seemed to be considering, Tony was pretty sure he wouldn’t miss. Last thing he wanted was to do was drown/burn in the river with a broadsword through his ribcage. Tony wiggled his palms, jazz-hands style. “Look. Not attacking. Saved your life. Legitimately suggesting you’ve _really_ got the wrong guy.” 

The sword point finally faltered, dipping towards the surface of the step-stone. The paladin’s swiveled his helm in the direction he’d come, but he remained silent.

“I mean yeah, I’ve got the whole demon thing going on, so really it’s a perfectly understandable mistake as far as mistakes go. The PR for ‘Overlord’ has been in the shits for years and it will take me forever to make the title anywhere near respectable thanks to dear old dad. It get it, I do, but- nope. Only roasted human I’m aware of is your unfortunately tin-wrapped carcass.” Cautiously, Tony landed once more on the edge of the step-stone. “I half expected to see you leaking gravy when I dragged you back up.” 

Tony was a good down-sweep-and-leap back into the air before he registered that the paladin’s movement had been to sheath his sword. He landed again with a little more confidence, a wide smile on his face as he folded his wings. 

His smile faltered, however, as the paladin spoke while still resolutely turned away, shoulders stiff and spine rigid. “The siren spoke sweet words.”

“Good old Pepper,” Tony ventured. “She has a way with them.” 

“They cling still,” he said. “She told me to… listen.”

Tony snorted. “She’s literally a siren. That’s kind of her whole modus operandi.” 

The paladin finally turned to face Tony again, stance relaxing. “So it is.” 

“How’s listening working out for you?” 

“Well, I’m not dead yet, and every creature I’ve yet encountered has only expressed surprise that you would leave the underworld, let alone commit the acts that I’m seeking you for,” the paladin said, reaching up to slip off his helmet. “I’m not so self-righteousness as to ignore basic addition. I think true justice would be to let you prove your innocence.”

Tony stared, heart sinking to his goddamned groin. He was going to have a Hell of a time proving any sort of innocence if he had to prove it to that face. The man had a chiseled jaw and the sort of self-mocking little grin that made Tony want to cheerfully remove any and all innocence from whatever official relationship they were to have going forward.

He was the tempt _er_ , not the tempt _ee_. Determined to keep his smile up if it killed him, Tony said, “I think you have the advantage of me,” because he learned all his manners from plucky Victorian heroines. 

At the prompt, the paladin introduced himself as ‘Steve Rogers’, then sighed at the river of fire flowing on all sides. He brushed a sweaty hank of blond hair from his eyes and returned his gaze to Tony. “Pretty sure I’m miffed that I didn’t actually get to finish your little obstacle course.” 

Tony recovered enough to say, “Obstacle course? Wait- _miffed_? Are you fucking kidding-” He halted a the faint twitch of Steve’s lips, like he was fighting to keep a straight face. Tony narrowed his eyes. “Was that a joke?” 

“Could have been,” Steve said, deadpan. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the lake of fire. “Going my way?” 

Leaving the man here to cook would probably be a solid life choice, but it would be just Tony’s luck to have an angry-at-being-abandoned-and-good-with-a-sword Steve follow him home, ‘obstacle course’ or no ‘obstacle course’. At least Steve was neither stupid nor dead; there was yet hope. “Might be. Need a lift?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Steve replaced his helm, checked his sword belt, and held out his arm.

Cursing himself under his breath for what he was fairly convinced was acute libido-induced idiocy, Tony scooped him up - hot metal and all - and wobbled his way airborne and up into the mists. Innocence his ass. If Steve’s grip as they flew back to the tower was any indication, innocence was going to come in absolutely dead last on his ever-increasing list of problems.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt in its glorious entirety: 
> 
>  
> 
> _hallo i want a fantasy au with steve and tony and tony being this demon overlord with dark circles under his eyes and horns and looking all villain like but all he wants to do is maintain his territory and conduct experiments to figure out the best power supply for the food mills for his minions and be a good overlord and then suddenly pops up paladin steve who’s all like :U EVIL DEMON and starts swinging his sword and injuring tony’s minions and tony gets pissed because he hasn’t done anything and then steve goes you have a bounty on your head for various crimes!! and then they find out tony’s been framed then steve feels ashamed and because of honor duty and tony’s beautiful ass he volunteers to find out who would dare to frame overlord anthony stark son of howard stark scourge of the mortal world etc_
> 
>  
> 
> _iiii just want all forms of knightsteve and noblemantinkerertony forever and ever_
> 
> _moos into space_
> 
> * * *
> 
> I'm keeping both an livejournal and a tumblr for my fic and fic-related things, so feel free to follow me at either [Desiderii-fic on tumblr](http://desiderii-fic.tumblr.com/) or [Desiderii on Lj](http://desiderii.livejournal.com).


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